


Nonverbal Communication

by polluxcastor



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-27 20:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12088320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polluxcastor/pseuds/polluxcastor
Summary: Phobos learns a new way to communicate





	Nonverbal Communication

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this idea for a while

Six am always came too soon. This wasn’t the first time Phobos had messed up his sleep schedule. He was deep in research, fingertips flying over the keyboard of his laptop. Once he had gotten used to the format of the keys on the keyboard, typing became second nature to playing guitar. He had started his research at nine pm the night before, around the time he woke up. The sun was starting to rise, and he hadn’t accomplished much else than this. 

He was getting frustrated. He couldn’t find the answers he was looking for, despite multiple sources. Phobos grumbled, putting his hands on either side of his head. He had read through article after article, but he still wasn’t getting anywhere. He could go ask Doctor Sung for help, but that required getting up from his comfortable spot on the bed. It also was part of the reason he was doing this research to begin with. 

It had been about six months, in earth time, that he had taken his vow of silence. He was tired of writing notes down or typing out complex messages on his phone when he wanted to say something. Sure he could speak through his guitar too, but he didn’t want to carry his guitar around everywhere. He needed something that could be used on a daily basis, and that was easier than typing out a message or handwriting something. He just couldn’t find the answer. 

He had typed everything he could into google. “How to communicate with someone who can’t speak,” gave results for stroke patients. Phobos read all about stroke patients and that wasn’t anywhere close to what was going on. “How to communicate when you’ve taken a vow of silence” gave results for people that have taken vows of silence for short periods of time. Phobos hadn’t spoken a word in six months! There had to be something. Anything! The words were on the tip of his fingers. He decided to try one more search for the night. 

‘What is it called when you can’t speak?’ He typed into the search bar. The results populated, giving him information on a bunch of things. He found old terminology that was no longer used, but the word “mute” came up a lot. He changed his search query. “How do mute people communicate?” Another set of exhausting results came up. He strained his eyes; his laptop was already at its lowest brightness setting and it was still just too bright. He was getting a headache. His eyes focused on an article half-way down the page. Something caught his attention.

Sign Language. 

This is what he had been looking for all this time. Phobos let out a soft groan of relief, dragging his hands down his face. He started another few grueling hours of research, now with a goal in sight. 

Phobos stayed up late, late for him at least, until 12 noon when the sun had risen well into the sky. He had gathered plenty of information. He had online resources, and had plans to go to the bookstore the next day to get books on this, and even had placed an order on amazon for the first time. Amazing stuff, Amazon, Phobos thought, shutting his computer down for the day; order stuff online, it’s delivered to your door. 

Now armed with books, online resources, and an open mind, Phobos got to work studying and learning the signs. Fingerspelling came easy to him. He learned and memorized the whole alphabet and number patterns in a few short hours. He could spell things out quickly, which was a fantastic start. He moved on to simple signs for everyday tasks. These were a bit more challenging to remember. Over the next few weeks he was able to get these down, and within the month he felt confident enough with his ability to keep up and understand conversational 7sign language. 

The hard part was going to be teaching the others. He was happier than he had been in months, grinning widely. He stayed up late, deciding that Havve would be a good person to start with. He still didn’t know the bot too well, and frankly his appearance was terrifying, but Havve seemed to take instructions pretty well. He texted Havve earlier in the day, so he’d get it once he woke up from his sleep mode. Phobos put on his sunglasses, the daylight in the house too bright for his light sensitive eyes, and headed downstairs. The bot was there waiting for him in the living room. 

Phobos figured he’d start it off pretty simple. He’d text a word to Havve, letting the bot read it before he signed it. The bot picked up quickly. Phobos wiggled a little on the couch; this was great! This was going better than he expected. Phobos thought he’d try a more complex sentence. 

‘Hey Havve, do you know if we have rehearsal tonight?’ Phobos signed. Havve looked from Phobos’ face down to his hands and back again. The unblinking stare was unnerving. Phobos could practically see the processors churning in the bot’s head.

“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND, LORD PHOBOS.” Havve stated very plainly, his cold mechanical voice boomier than ever. Phobos sighed and signed the same sentence again, this time slower. Havve stated the same response, resulting in Phobos putting his head in his hands and slumping against the back of the couch. Havve just tilted his head in response, assuming the lesson was over. He stood and went back to his normal morning duties. 

Doctor Sung was easy to teach. He always asked questions, and was quick to give input on how Phobos was doing. The only problem was that Doctor Sung was a little...too inquisitive. 

“Okay, so what if I hold my hand like this, does this have a different meaning than this? Or what about this? Does this change like the accent of the word if I do this? How about this?” Sung prattled on, “I really appreciate your feedback, Phobos I’m so glad you’re doing this, this will help you so much, and will help the rest of us too! We just have to make sure that it’s perfect so you’re understood, and we can be understood too! What’s wrong Phobos?”

Meouch was….difficult. Phobos knew this, before he even went up to Meouch’s room. There was still some unresolved tension between the two of them. It wasn’t anything that had been discussed, not recently anyway. He had written down a message for Meouch, just simply telling him that he wanted to teach him something. He knocked on the door, stepping back from it slightly. 

“Who is it?” Meouch called from inside. Phobos just stared at the door. Well this was awkward. Phobos just knocked again, quieter this time. 

“Alright, I’m coming, I’m coming.” Meouch grumbled. Phobos could hear the creaking of Meouch’s bed as he got up, opening the door. “I dunno why you couldn’t just...Oh. Hey Phobos. H’suh dude? What’s this?” Phobos handed him the paper, “Teach me something? Give me like five minutes and I’ll be down.”

 

The lesson with Meouch went as well as Phobos expected. It was slow and painful, his frustration level rising. It seemed like Meouch wasn’t taking it seriously. He kept making jokes at some of the signs Phobos would do, and he couldn’t even remember the alphabet when Phobos quizzed him. He snapped. Phobos slammed his hands on the table, face and hands flushing red with anger. He grabbed his phone and angrily typed out a message. 

‘I WISH YOU’D TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY! THIS IS IMPORTANT TO ME! I QUIT! FIGURE IT OUT YOURSELVES’ Phobos hit send on the message as hard as he could without breaking the screen on his phone. He stood, going upstairs. He slammed the door shut to the attic, locking it from inside. He sat down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. He let out a sob of frustration. From downstairs, Sung read over the message, looking at Meouch.

“What did you do?” Sung asked, giving an accusatory glare in Meouch’s direction. 

“Nothin’. I was trying my best and he just kind of...exploded.” Meouch mumbled, folding his ears back against his head. “I mean I know this is important to him, but damn.” Sung hummed softly, tapping his chin. 

“I think I’ve got just the thing.” 

 

The week passed without much incident. Life resumed as normal. The band rehearsed together during their normal schedule, working on some new songs. Phobos was just about to head upstairs for the day, feeling pretty sleepy. 

‘Good rehearsal everyone. I’m going to get some sleep.’ Phobos signed. It didn’t occur to him that no one would understand it. 

“It was a good rehearsal. Get some rest, bud. We’ll see you later.” Meouch said, packing up his bass. Phobos stopped in his tracks. He turned back towards the others, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What is it, Phobos?” Sung asked, looking up from setting his keytar on its stand.

‘Meouch understood me.’ Phobos signed, looking very confused.

“Yes he did. We all did.” Sung grinned. He had been waiting for this moment all week. In secret, he had dragged the three of them to a few classes. It would still be a learning experience for them all, but they had an easier way to communicate with Phobos. 

‘Since when?’ Phobos signed, looking between all of them. 

“THIS WEEK, LORD PHOBOS.” Havve said, voice rumbling, “DOCTOR SUNG MADE US LEARN BECAUSE YOU WERE SO UPSET.” Phobos made a soft trilling noise in his throat, putting his hand on his chest. 

‘You did this for me?’ He signed. He was thankful he was wearing sunglasses still. He had to blink a few times to keep tears from falling. He was so not going to cry over this.

“Of course we did, Phobos! You’re one of us, and this was super important to you. Now everything is much more convenient, and we don’t have to use as much paper trying to write notes. We’d do anything for our rock and roll best friend.” Sung grinned, holding out his fist for a fist bump. Phobos let out a breathy laugh, smiling as he rubbed at his eyes from under his sunglasses. He gave Sung the fist bump he wanted, shaking his head.

‘You all are the best friends I could ever ask for. Thank you.’


End file.
